*Blood*
Here I stand before the men
Who will soon decide my fate
The room is cold, despite the heat
They glare at this dirt below their feet
The good, the brave, the righteous
Calling, lusting for my blood
I plead my case, but now I'm tired
No one cares, no one ever did
They could never see the truth I hid
Now, when the time has come,
I ask for their trust and mercy
They have none to waste
On anyone like me.

~Ryn Walters~

A/N: Wow, one of the shortest poems I've ever written, I do think I'm improving. Too bad fiction press doesn't show color, I like the effect better when it's red. I'm not sure about the rhymed bits. Please review! : )